


Fangan Ronpa:  A Gallery of Silent Poetry

by Chiv



Series: Monoworld [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fan Adventure, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiv/pseuds/Chiv
Summary: "Why do you think it's called the Gallery of Silent Poetry?""Because I'm a work of art, darling--and so are you, don't you forget it.  We speak through our talent, not our voices.  After all, nobody really cares what we say."When Paris Eins, the newly established Ultimate Librarian, awakens in a museum with twenty other students, things quickly go downhill as they meet their new headmaster: a bear.  And when they're informed that escape is a stab away, the question rises: will someone actually do it?  With their freedom at stake, twenty-one Ultimate teenagers engage in a game of Mutual Killing.(Novel/Play style!  Interactive!)





	1. Prologue - Angelou's Lament - Part 1

“I absolutely love your work!  Congratulations, Mr. Eins.”   _  Click. _  A camera shoved into my face—at least it wasn’t a cellphone.  Cellphones had been requested at the door by security, for the “comfort of the author”.  Didn’t mean there weren’t a few naysayers in the very back, holding small machines above their heads, clicking pictures that would probably find themselves in some sort of database, government or otherwise.  It was uncivil.  Vulgar.  Had these people even read the book?  Technology represented disconnect; it was the harbinger of loss, a cold, mechanical thing.  They were probably just clamoring for an autograph to sell.  “Ah, Mr. Eins?”  Pulled from my trance, I looked up from the crowd to the older woman standing to the side of the booth, a scarlet shawl wrapped tightly around her wide frame.  “Are you alright?”  My face was red, and burning; I took a heavy gulp of water.

“Yes—I am.  Thank you for your concern.”  Well,  _ that _ sounded even more rehearsed than it truly was.  But I was a writer, not a thespian.  

Or rather, I was a  _ librarian. _  The Ultimate Librarian.  That was definitely a reason to get my autograph.  

Hope’s Peak Academy was the harbinger of hope for the rest of the world.  Not only did the guarantee success--they guaranteed fame as well.  The Academy had been founded years and years ago, originating in Japan; from there, it began to branch off across the globe.  The goal was simple: foster talent, cultivate hope.  Every year, the process began anew.  Letters would be sent out; inconspicuous, almost like junk mail.  They were absolutely anonymous.  The most talented students in the nation; in the world, too; they would be selected to join the newest class, cementing their spot in history, becoming the innovators of the present and the leaders of tomorrow.  When my name went global—officially, even though I had become a part of the speculative list months ago—the world would die to meet Paris Eins.  They would  _ die for it. _  Die.

Die…

Suddenly, the world was spinning as scarlet-shawl wandered away.  Had she slipped something into my drink?  Had one of those miscreants in the back shot some kind of blowdart through their “phone”?  Had…would…what?  My hands, gripped like iron on the table, let go as my body swayed to the left.  I reached out.  The first face in the crowd broke into a gasp as my vision blurred.  And then, they all disappeared.  I was falling.

Some will say that darkness is the worst thing.  They’re wrong.

=x-x=

“She is dead!   _ Defunto! _  I tell you, dead!”

“Nicola, calmati.  He is alive.  See?  He’s breathing—“

“Non dimmi più!  Defunto!”

“Okay, Mussolini 1 and 2, ‘s enough.”  A rough voice broke the argument up, and I felt a fist curl into the cotton fabric of my hoodie.  Oh no.  The world was still black.  Limbs were still numb, whether it was with fear or drowsiness.  Even my voice had failed me.  His thick hand lifted me up, my head lolling backwards with gravity.

“Aw shit.  I think she  _ is _ dead.”  Ugh.  A third time.  My blood was beginning to boil, the blackness glowing red around the edges.

“ _ I’m not a girl. _ ”  And then he flung me.

“Aaaaah shit, ‘s a fuckin’ GHOST!”  WHAM!  The sound of spine colliding with a solid wall, cracking in all the wrong places.  My eyes finally flung open, my legs flailing as they met the floor.  They buckled as they touched the ground, and I surveyed the scenery before me.  Ten other teenagers (probably, some of them looked much older or younger) stood in various poses, scattered across a marble hall.  The floor was a sequence of browns and tans, each tile at least a tad different from the next.  The walls were made of a pure, clean marble, expensive to the touch.  The ceiling was a high arch, creating a dome full of beautiful blended paintings.  Heaven, hell, Earth, space, it had everything; pulling my gaze away from it actually proved difficult.  The others looked less enchanted, barring a couple  _ very  _ excited ones.  As our eyes met, one of them strode forward, grabbing my chin roughly and tilting it up to inspect.

“She’s okay.  Are you okay, chickadee?”  Her voice was demanding, with a deep undertone of sweetness.  It called for order and agreement in a truly compelling way.  And yet, her steel-gray eyes were ice cold.

“Y-Yes ma’am.  But I-I’m not a she.”  My voice was shaky, with a deep undertone of  _ get-me-outta-here _ .

“Ah, I’m sorry bud.   _ He _ —“  I cut her off once more, in a bold move that could very well get me killed.

“I’m n-n-n-not a he, as well.  Could you just say ‘they’?”  Was she going to hit me?  Oh, God, she was going to hit me.  She released me immediately, her cold gaze warming into a small smile.

“They’re okay.  My apologies.” She rumbled with a deep Southern accent.  I returned the smile with anxious eyes, averting my gaze toward the others.  Most seemed to be relieved, with others looking irritated, dejected…one person even looked disappointed.  Her eyes, in particular, lingered on me for a few seconds, before turning away toward a tall girl with tightly curled brown hair.

“Aaaaa-hem!”  This came from the aforementioned brunette, who stepped backwards to address the whole group.  “All of us are awake now,” she started, casting me a sideways glance.  “so we can introduce ourselves.”  She was the same girl who had pronounced me dead.  “Io sono Nicola Anna Capitani, call me Nicola, grazie.”

“Yo Sono Nicola Anna Capitani sounds like a pageant name, honey!  I love it!”  A nasal voice cut off the Italian girl.  The crowd of people parted as the voice’s owner strode forward, a 6’5” visage in bright red heeled boots.  Everything about her was big and overdone, from a giant blown-out jet-black hairdo, to a tight leather tube-top, fishnets, the shoes…was this an animatronic?  “But you still haven’t told us what makes you top puss.”  She ran a finger along her hairline, chuckling in a surprisingly low tone.  “Like me.  Hi y’all, I’m Misty Falls!  If you think you’ve seen me before, it’s because you own a television~.” She lilted, before spinning dramatically and nearly toppling over.  “Whoops!  Aha, I’m the—“  Her voice dropped down to a tone nearly matching the gruff man who had tossed me.  “—Ultimate Drag Queen.”  Oh.   _ His _ voice.  As if he was reading my thoughts:  “And while I’m in geish, please call me she!  I’m a lady sometimes, biology or not~.”  The room fell deathly silent.  Nicola, without missing a beat, ripped a button from her jacket and dropped it with a loud clack.

“Yes, yes.  ‘You could hear the pin drop’, as you Americans like to say.  Ehh, anyway!  Io sono means—“

“I am!  ‘Io sono’ is the present tense of I am, stemming from the verb essereeeeeeeee!”  A black girl with her hair in a braid covered in rainbow spheres jumped up and down on her toes, nearly buzzing away with energy.  “So her name’s Nicola Capitani!  And I know that ‘cause I’m Liiiiiiibby Quique Smith, the Ultimate Linguist.”  Libby was raw energy from head to hoe.  She wore plain white loafers that glowed with colorful LEDs, her shorts were a 90’s-esque sky blue, and her tie-dyed t-shirt had a globe taped to it, with the words “GIVE PEACE A CHANCE!” on the continents.  She wore her hair in a long braid nearly down to her toes, each sectioned marked off with a different-colored bubble.  But was she actually a teenager?

“They put elementary school in Hope’s Peak Academy, huh?”  Misty looked at Libby and crossed her arms.  “I’m.  Not.  Buying it.”

“No, I can prove she’s a highschooler.”  Libby’s knight was a tall, lanky boy with a deep tan.  His ice-blue eyes challenged Misty’s.  Then, he sent a wink her way.  “See the pins on her shirt?”  It was true, there were a multitude of rainbow pins around the globe, helping to pin it in place.  “They all say C2, standing for C2 Certification.  Each pin is a different language she’s fluent in.  If my calculations are correct, she’d have to spend…well, if it’s generally 1,200 hours to become fluent in one language…just take my word for it, alright?”

Libby was starstruck.  “How did you knoooooooooooow thaaaaaaaaaat?!”  He laughed sheepishly, looking away and blushing.  His hands were trying to keep themselves busy, tugging on his black shirt, his red flannel covered in small black spikes, looping through the beltloops of his black skinny jeans.  Finally, they settled in his hair, pulling his light-brown tousled hair back flat against his head.

“Uh…I dunno.  Guess I heard it once.”  And then he looked away from the obviously-infatuated Linguist, gazing at the tiled floor.  “I-I…uh.  Hi everyone.  I’m Marco Frost, the Ultimate Mathematician.”  His face was still tinged red, as he motioned for the burly man next to him to continue.  “Please, Theo?”  ‘Theo’ appeared to be the one who had lifted and subsequently hurled me across the room.

“Heh.  Cute, kid.”  He flashed a grin at the boy, shooting him a gaze that I couldn’t quite decipher.  “I’m Theodore Black, Ultimate Project Manager, nice to MEET’CHA!”  His loud voice boomed like thunder on the last word as he stomped his foot.  “Don’t forget the NAME!  …Or the TALENT!”  He beat his chest with an audible thud, laughing heartily.

“Y’think you’re tough, big boy?  Just because you got the voice doesn’t mean y’got the cajones, sugar!”  The woman who had examined me stood up, holding her arms out and flexing impressively.  “If he gives y’all any trouble, y’can count on me!”  It came out as more of a threat than a joke.  “I’m Delta Davenport, the Ultimate Liaison!  If any y’all find my hat, I’d appreciate it back.”

“Ah, this must be Ms. Delta’s hat…”  A boy stepped from Nicola’s side, his face eerily similar to the…whatever-she-was.  “Sorry.  I found it on the ground and pretended I was the officer from  _ Peace In Our Time _ !”  His eyes widened with fear even as his smile persisted, with Delta storming towards him.

“That—is the hat—of a United States official!  And if your accent’s anythin’ to go by, you’re not even from the States!”  Well, she sort of had a point.  He shared the Italian accent of Nicola, albeit much more subdued.

“You’re right; I’m not.  Sorry Ms. Delta…I’m Carlo Capitani, the Ultimate Thespian.”  He held out his hand, but she had already turned on her heel, marching back to my side with a grumble of discontent.  “I’m sorry!  Very sorry!  Ah…would you like my vest?”  The boy started pulling off his huge purple velvet coat, slipping it onto the ground as he started to unbutton the shiny black vest as well.  He shrugged the shoulders of his mauve dress shirt to pull the vest off, and despite that overly dressy appearance…he was wearing short black basketball shorts.

“I don’t want the—“  The vest landed over Delta’s face.  And then, like a bull, she charged the boy.  “I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR BUTT INTO THE YEAR 3000—“

“Please, no!  I need my butt!  Delta, please!”  He flipped a mask down over his face rapidly, the face of it representing the two sides of drama.  He darted away as she ran on, both of them nearly colliding with several walls.  Soon, there probably wouldn’t even be a room left.

“Ah…you are all so strange,” said the girl dressed in the cartoony, overdone witch costume.  She tugged at the white frock on it with a sigh of annoyance.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you all, despite this cruel prank.  I am Aurelie Ebner, the Ultimate  _ Sorcière Blanc _ —“  Libby opened her mouth and took a breath.  “The White Witch.”  Denied.  Well, that was the best explanation for the costume, but she seemed…agitated about it.  

“Why would you refer to your outfit as a prank?” I asked.  Her eyes shot over to me, lowering into a glare.  It seemed I just couldn’t produce the right words to not piss everyone off today.  But as our eyes met, it dawned on me that she had been the one disappointed by my awakening.  “And why did you look so glum that I had survived  _ someone _ —” I glared pointedly at Theo, who looked away with a roll of his eyes.  “—tossing me into a wall?”

Her face softened a bit at that last part.  “I am sorry, ah…whoever you are.  I have been trying to practice my skills for a long time.  I am focusing on revival now, so…I hoped you would be my test.”  Well, that wasn’t…particularly evil.  Just a bit selfish.  “As for this hellish thing, I woke up in it.  I would never wear something so…disrespectful to who I am.  I am a Christian—this is pagan.”

“Ah, Christian, witch, whatever—you’re French!  I can just hear it, like music!  My parents are from France!”  A tall boy in a blue jumpsuit clapped rapidly, pulling a little French flag from one of his many pockets and waving it around.  “I’m Pierre Crevacour, nice to meet you, mademoiselle.”  He thrust his hand out and Aurelie took it daintily, offering him a bright smile.

“What might your talent be, if I may ask?” she asked.  Her tone seemed very…mature.  Or old.  Pierre seemed to have noticed this too, his face screwing up for a split second before winding back into exuberance.

“Ah, oui oui oui!  I’m the Ultimate Referee!”  As if to demonstrate, he rapid-fire threw out several flags and rags of varying colors.  “Hmmm?  Hm?”  He was like a puppy, trying to impress the Witch.  Her smile didn’t even flicker.

“Well, it is a pleasure.  Ah!  Wait one moment.  Ehm, Pierre.  Will you call the room to attention?  Perhaps it will assuage Delta.”  She turned back to me, giggling airily.  “I believe you haven’t been able to introduce yourself.”

“Oh no, that’s quite alright, I—“  I was cut off by Pierre’s cracking voice.

“ATTENTION!  Everyone!”  He pulled a red rag from his pocket.  “Oh mon dieu, please don’t work like a rodeo…”  In a brave move, he tossed the fabric into Delta’s path, covering her face and stopping her in her tracks.  Carlo took that perfect moment to flee through an archway, into a still unseen part of the room, screaming all the way.

Cold.  Calculated.  Her voice was like needles.  “Yes, Frenchie-pie?”

“A-Ah, please don’t hurt me mademoiselle…it just seems that one of us hasn’t been able to introduce themself.”  Pierre twiddled his fingers.  He was still staring fearfully at the unmoving Delta, who had frozen like a statue.

“Well, it’s about time!”  Nicola shoved Pierre out of the way, taking center stage in the room.  “It is as I was  _ saying. _  I am Nicola Anna Capitani, the Ultimate Tarantella Dancer.  The most important of Ultimates in here.  I am the pride of Italy!”  With that, she struck a dramatic pose, flipping her hair and tugging her thick red jacket taut.

“…Actually, I didn’t mean y-you.  But it’s nice to meet you, mademoiselle.”  Pierre stepped back, bracing himself a bit.

“…It is as I said.”  Her body was turned toward Pierre, but her eyes slid to lock onto mine.  “I am the most important.”  And then she huffed, covering her visage with her hand.  “I guess we must  _ all _ know one another.  Proceed.”

Every eye was turned on me.

Oh god, why was every eye on me?

“H-Hi, I’m…I’m P-Paris—” A slow clap began beside me, as someone entered through Carlo’s escape way.  The boy had silvery white hair with noticeable dark roots, and his eyes were black—not even brown.  He almost looked like an animation, like Aurelie’s costume.  He wore a tightly fitted black jacket with chains hanging off the shoulders, and a pair of black slacks.  He had a multitude of piercings; two above his average, two below his mouth, one on his nose, his ears, his collarbone…he was covered in modifications.

“Paris Eins, right?  The Ultimate Librarian.”  A few bursts of hushed whispering broke out amongst the group.  “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”  Well, at least he spoke normally.  Still, I couldn’t shake there was something menacing about him.  How did he know me?  ‘Finally’?  “I loved your book!”  Oh.  Well.  Crisis averted.

“I-It’s always nice to see a f—”

“A fan, yeah!  It must be nice!”  And then he grinned like the Cheshire Cat.  “I wonder what that’s like.”

“Why?  Are you the Ultimate Stays-At-Home?”  It was Nicola who cut the standoff in half.

He just laughed.  “No, no, nothing like that!  I just…”

“Just what?”  Libby was bouncing on her toes now, her eyes wide with wonder.

“I don’t remember what my talent is.”


	2. Prologue - Angelou's Lament - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are answered, new faces are revealed. The more the merrier?

Aurelie was the first to break the silence that fell after the mysterious boy had dropped the bomb.  Her arms were crossed lightly over her apron, but her fingers were playing with the fringes of the fabric, nervous in her stead.

“Ehm...you don’t remember?” she asked, tone heavy with a badly hidden distress.  “How can that be, hmm?”

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaybe he’s a Reserve Course studeeent?”  Libby had the expression of a kicked puppy as she walked in circles around him, as if trying to find some indicator.  “Aaaaah!  You’re the Ultimate...um, Pieeeeeercer?”  Perhaps that had sounded more convincing in her head.

“No, no, definitely not...I didn’t do any of these myself!”  He waved her theory off with a breathy laugh, expression growing serious as he looked back at me.  “But I know I absolutely  _ adored _ your book.  Maybe we’re lovers?”  The Ultimate Mystery winked at me as he said that, smile growing wider as my face got redder.  Was he...a super sadist?!

“I-I would c--...c-certainly th-think not.”  No.  No way.  They’d never met before!

“Maybe I’m just mistaken then,” he said simply, a polite yet hollow smile persisting on him.  “But alas, I don’t think we have time to stay and play detective.  This isn’t a mystery, after all.  It’s obvious that the upperclassmen of Hope’s Peak are hazing us.”  ‘Hazing’ us…?  As if reading my mind, he continued.  “Y’know, like playing a prank to initiate us or whatever.”  Ah.  Yes, that...could be a possibility.  Why didn’t it feel like one?  “There’s more of us, you know.  They’ve been exploring the rest of the museum.”

“Of course there are more of us, testa di cazzo!  Bonaventura is not in the room, s ì?”  Bonaventura?  Who was Nicola speaking of…?

“Bonaventura Capitani...he was in the NEWS, right?!” boomed Theo, his eyes glimmering.  For just a second, Marco’s peaceful gaze soured as he shot a glare at the bigger man.  “He’s the SAND SCULPTOR, my BOY!”

“Y-You mean there’s three of you, babes?” Misty was wide-eyed with shock.  “How the hell did your mother shoot out three--”  Aurelie bristled at the expression, “--talented mofos like you?”

“And why didn’t y’tell us about there being more students?” Delta huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “Y’just keep complicating sugar-honey-iced-tea, sugar pill, so stop trying m’patience.”

“I do not believe it was asked!  It was none of the bee’s hive for  _ y’all _ .” Nicola mocked Delta’s accent on the last word, rolling her eyes.  “I woke first, and everyone else in here woke last.  The ‘early flyers’ left the nest to explore.  But he has been gone for long.  And I am sure Carlito has gotten into trouble by now.  As your leader, we will split up into groups of three.”  Who died and appointed her leader?

“Who died and made y’the leader, sugar pill?” Delta’s hands pressed into her sides, her fingers paling from the pressure.  “If anyone’s the leader, it--”

“Ahhhh ta-ta-ta-shhhhhhhh.  No more words.  Only leading.” Nicola strided forward, placing a finger to Delta’s lips.  The Liaison looked as though she was about to tear the Dancer limb from limb, but before she could even try, Nicola had skipped away gracefully, walking out the archway.  “With ten of us, I will go alone.”  And with that, she was gone.

“Oh, ma chéri…” Pierre groaned, raising a white rag and then wiping his brow with it.  “Well, we may as well follow her.  Mademoiselle Ebner, will you accompany me?”  He held his elbow out, smiling at her nervously.  After a second, she stepped forward, lightly tapping it and walking ahead of him.

“Yes, but I do not need the chivalry.  Thank you, Pierre!”  Her eyes widened a bit as they focused on someone past him--Libby.  “Ah, my Linguist friend!  Would you like to come with Pierre and I?”  The smaller girl’s eyes lit like a Christmas tree.

“Oh boy, would I  _ eeeeeeeeeeeeever!! _ ”  Libby nearly flew through the room, surpassing the Witch and sprinting out the exit.  “Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!”  Aurelie looked back at Pierre with a small smile, before she too took off running through the arc.

“A-Ah, mademoiselle!  You’re going to get hurt!”  And then he took off in a mad dash after the girls, a trail of tied-up flags unfurling from his pocket and trailing behind.

I looked back at the remaining people.  Misty and Theo were talking quietly, the conversation broken up by an occasional laugh as she ran a finger down his muscled arm.  Marco stood not too far away, arms crossed and his eyes closed pensively.  His face was still slightly red, as if residually angry from the Manager’s last excited outburst.  Well, it seemed like those three were preoccupied in their diversions.  That left Delta, who was leaned against the wall frumpily, and the unnamed mystery, who had been inching closer to me with every second.  I shot him a glare, and it seemed like he actually scuttled back a few feet.

“I’m sorry!”  He raised his hands up above his blushing face.  “I’m just so excited to meet you.”  The phrase had fallen from his mouth, a choked whisper of fear.  Where had the tall, confident lion-like boy gone?  Well, this at least felt more comfortable.  I wanted to be in power, and now, the cracking facade of mystery would shatter.  I just had to needle the right spots.

“W-What’s your name?”  Smooth, Paris.  Really, A+ job.  Now he was going to reveal his intricately phrased name, most likely consisting of a million surnames all hyphenated together, and I was going to feel really uncultured.  “Well, g-get on with i-it.  Do you think we have all day?”

“That depends,” he answered, winking at me.  “Do you have a watch?”  Ugh.  “But if you really wanna know it, which really flatters me since I’m a huge fan, my name is Jonie Jones!”  ...What a common name.

“S’a boring name y’got there, plum partner.” Delta drawled by his ear, sending the boy to the ground with a yelp.  “Jesus!  What’s got y’so scared of everything all of a sudden?  Don’t be such a mamby-pamby, boy!”  My eyes darted to her foot as it raised up, as if she was about to stomp ‘plum partner’ into the ground.  What was this?!  Her kind, firm nature had shined upon me, but toward people such as Carlos and Jonie, she was like a goliath of monstrous proportions.  I couldn’t just let her hurt him.  But would this cause a divide?  Would I invoke Delta’s wrath, or would Jonie wither away like an injured animal as I left him to the Liaison’s aggressions?  This was a defining moment.  Like that of Gawain’s journey, as he reached the final leg of his trek to the Green Chapel.  Paris would either find herself clean, or behea--

_ Whack! _  Delta’s boot connected with Jonie’s side, sending him reeling back several feet.  Oh.  Oh dear.  Jonie yelped and scrambled against the dull tiles, desperate to escape, but Delta scooped him up into the crook of her elbow before he could resist.

“Listen, sweetie, plum partner,” she murmured, her tone growing saccharine.  “I discipline outta love.  So don’t go thinking I’m some monster, okay?  Now, if peasnap doesn’t mind, I think us three musketeers better get going before everyone figures a way out of here without us!”  Still dragging Jonie, she began to stride away.

“Excuse me...but, u-um, why am I called ‘peasnap’?”  I hurdled the question toward her, locked onto the floor in anticipation for an answer.  Without missing a beat, Delta threw an answer over her shoulder.

“Because I could snap y’like a pea.”

After an answer like that, I couldn’t help but do whatever she said.

 

Leaving the main room was like a curtain being raised.  The residual tension, every rotten feeling ebbed away like it had never permeated our worlds in the first place.  Delta’s shoulders relaxed.  Jonie was on his feet now, his face red but peaceful.  Immediately, we had entered an intersection of sorts.  Along the left passage were about...ten doors?  To the right were about eleven.  There were more intersections branching down those ways; it was overwhelming to see the intricacy of the building.  If this was a prank...well, what a beautiful prank it was.  The passage ahead of us lead to an open room not to unlike the previous one...but there were several voices coming from within.

“That sounds liiike...Charlie and Mizuki.” Jonie squinted down the hall, as if that would help him hear better.

“Who the heck’re they?”  The Liaison’s tone was flat and demanding.  “Charlie...fine name.  Must be a strong man.  Mizuki, who the heck knows.”  She marched ahead, throwing her hand out to signal for us to follow.

“Oh my goodness, do you think he’s part of the cosmos now..?”

“You’ve asked me this five ways, you squirrel.  Still don’t know.”

Entering the room, the elephant in the room became obvious.  No, literally.  A giant elephant skeleton was meticulously arranged in the middle of the room.  The ceiling stretched up for what seemed like forever, finally ending in a dome with cave drawings painted on it crudely.  The walls were a shimmery gold, but it seemed that each time the girl on the floor smacked her hand against the wall, flakes would flutter to the floor.  The girl in question...who was she?  She was asking about the cosmos, her thick-rimmed glasses sliding down her face every time she lazily nodded at the other girl’s response.  Her friend was currently  _ inside _ the elephant, climbing precisely between its ribs so as not to fall through.  Either way, there wasn’t a “strong man” to be found...to Delta’s displeasure.

“Which one-a y’all’s named Charlie?” she asked, her voice resuming a tense, guarded inflection.  I snuck a glance at her face, seeing it screwed up just a bit with frustration; or perhaps nervousness over making the first impression she wanted.

“S’pose that’s me.  ‘Sup?”  The blonde girl climbing the skeleton suddenly swung down, hitting the ground and collapsing with a small, short yelp.  “Shiit...that could be my ankle.  Knew I’d fuck up the landing, Mario was right.”  Jonie and I rushed forward, shooting each other an unreadable glance as we hoisted Charlie to her feet.  The other girl, presumably Mizuki, looked unphased even as the blonde’s face contorted in pain.

“Shiiiiiiiiit.  Hope the Peak’s got a good doc on board!”  And just like that, she laughed and threw the two of us off, limping toward Delta.  She threw her hand up just as they were at arm’s length, surprisingly getting a firm handshake from the tough woman in return.

“Y’got the spunk of a million men, spunky!  We’re gonna call y’spunky-brewster.”  Delta’s eyes were glinting with pride.  I guessed she had just met her best friend.

“Spunky, eh?  Nah, I’m just not ready to be goin’ up yet.  Nice to meet you guys up and fightin’!  Be nicer if I knew your names.”  Her warm amber eyes swung over to me, offering another wide smile.  “You’re, uh...nope, sorry.  No clue.  I only know one of you dudes.”

“Well, nice to meet so--” Jonie began to stride toward her, but Charlie had turned back to the Liaison excitedly.  His face fell, and he let out a small sound of indignation as she carried on.

“Delta Davenport, my ‘gubmint’ pal,” she drawled out, each word dripping with an extra dose of Baltimore inflection.  Oh boy, that would get grating.  “You don’t remember me?  After all that work we did together?”  She took a step back, pleased as Delta lost her composure for a minute.  The tall woman sputtered once, twice--then she broke into a smile, grabbing Charlie roughly by the neck and hitting her on the back.

“Charlie Ellis!  Y’got me, pecan.  I see lots of faces, but y’think I’d remember the Ultimate Engineer when I saw her!”  She laughed loudly as the other girl struggled a bit, finally breaking free of her grip and patting at her frizzed-out blonde afro.  The headlock hadn’t done it much good; but still, she patted as she talked, as if trying to calm it down.

“‘Course, hon.  I get it, but don’t forget me again!” she grinned, sending Delta a wink and looking back at us.  “Sorry, I got right smart excited there.  Who’re you?”

“I’m Jonie, and  _ this _ \--” Jonie spread his arms to his left, bowing to one knee and gesturing toward me.  “--is the illustrious Mx. Paris Eins.”  My face flushed and I looked away, already feeling the burning gaze of curiosity from the Engineer.  My attention fell to the purple-haired girl who had been speaking about the cosmos--my salvation.  I strode toward her and her eyebrows rose just the tiniest bit.  When I stopped, the smallest whisper came from her mouth; just barely audible, but it was there.

“Who could you be?”  Silence.  In that instant she almost looked like a wax figurine--like if she was tapped, she would shatter like the demise of Medusa.  I cleared my throat, still feeling the heat in my cheeks.

“I-I’m Paris Eins, the...the Ultimate L-Librarian.  Nice t-t-to meet you.”  The words came out a bit garbled, and all-too cheap-sounding.  She looked unfazed.

“Paris Eins,” she murmured, spilling the words delicately from her mouth.  “Very nice.  I am Mizuki.  Mizuki Suzuki, the Ultimate Astronomer.”  The Astronomer...truly, the girl played the part.  With her thick glasses, her loose gray sweater clinging to the arc of her shoulders, her messy hair pulled loosely into amethyst pigtails, she appeared as if she’d just awoken; maybe she had, if her constant yawning was anything to go by.  “I am...sorry if I am tired; I seem to have forgotten it…”

“It?” I asked, but it was no use.  As if she hadn’t heard me, Mizuki shuffled off toward the others, not unlike an old zombie.  “Ah...g-goodbye?”  Well...for now, she wasn’t going to say much more.  Delta and Charlie were still reveling in whatever event had brought them together; Jonie was talking to Mizuki now, casting a furrowed glance at me every few minutes as if beckoning me over.  This all felt suddenly oppressing; so with a quick wave, I scurried off, through a corridor almost obscured behind the skeleton.

Entering the new room through a heavy wooden door, it seemed...there were even more areas than it had ever seemed.  The door slammed behind me, and I jumped--nearly sending a short girl in a pinstripe suit toppling to the ground.  She held a stack of papers tightly in her arms, a folder or two peeking out.  Her eyes were frantically darting around and she bit her lip.  Her hair was tied in a messy black bun streaked with bleached blonde, a pen and pencil sticking out at odd angles from within.

“H-Hey, watch where you’re going!” she cried angrily, checking me backwards with her hip.  I stumbled back, nearly hitting the wall and gasping.  Oh god.  Oh god oh god I’d already pissed someone off; I was a complete and utter  _ failure _ by myself.  Without Delta and Jonie, or hell, maybe even Charlie and Mizuki, without them I’d be floundering; I needed my feet held on the Earth, no matter whose hands they were.  It was all so much.

“Um...hey, sir?  Ma’am?  ...Sirma’am?  ...Com...rade?”  Huh?  I looked up, and when had this girl gotten taller?  She towered over me, a worried glance marring her face.  Oh--it became apparent as my senses started coming back in a tingling wave.  I was crouched on the floor, my hands tightened around the back of my neck; I’d buried my head between my knees for a moment.  Scrambling to my feet, I tried to sputter a response.

“H-Hi--I--so s-sorry--Paris--I--u-uh…”  Oh god.  Was I about to collapse again?  As if sensing this, the girl grabbed my arm firmly, shaking it a bit.  And then she sighed, permitting a small smile to flit across her face.

“Please, relax.  I understand, trust me; whoever you are, you’re probably like me and the others.  An Ultimate, right?”  The words escaped me, so I just nodded.  “I figured as much.  You’re from Paris, huh?  Or you think we’re in Paris.  I wish.”  She looked over her shoulder for a second, and I finally noticed what this room was--a big stairwell.  The room had been designed to allow a door on three walls, a square staircase spiraling up for maybe 15 feet.  A boy was descending it quickly, his feet tapping each step for just a millisecond before traveling downward.  My saviour continued.  “I’m Son Ki, by the way.  The Ultimate Democrat.  And here he comes; my boss, Mario Mar--”

“--Tinez!  The Ultimate--”  He stopped and struck a pose at a landing, brushing his slicked-back brunet hair tight against his scalp.  “--Campaign Manager.  Mario Martinez!” he repeated, laughing and finishing the last of the steps.  He strode toward me confidently, embracing me in a hug and a handshake before I could react.  And just as quickly he stepped away, wiping his hands against his steel-gray suit.  The duo certainly looked like a power couple.  His arm circled around Son protectively, and she in turn sunk her head onto his shoulder.  Ugh.  Three minutes in...and I was already third-wheel?!

“Sorry,” she laughed.  “We’ve been together a long time, so it’s natural.  I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah,” he continued.  “Librarians are like, a major turn-on, right?  Of course she gets it!”  Suddenly, the politician elbowed him in the ribs, to his vehement and immediate protest.

“Stop it.”  It was firm, and just a bit ferocious.  “They’re obviously not a she, or a he.  They’re a...they.  And do you really think ‘a major turn-on’ is a good way to introduce yourself to a stranger, Mario?”

“N-No!  You’re probably...right.”  But as he groaned out an apology, it dawned on me.

“How’d you know I’m a ‘they’?”  I was suspicious.  That wasn’t just something someone  _ knew _ ; I was a public figure, unfortunately, but not even my ‘fans’ typically knew about my gender.  Son just shrugged.

“When you spend time in the gears, you start to read people.  And  _ you _ read as someone with a genderless spirit.”  Huh.  It still...sounded suspicious, but at least with her talent, the explanation was sensible.

“Ki, don’t you think we gotta get going?  Nice to meet them and all, but there are so many others!  I hear more voices on the other side, people to meet!  Voters!”  The Manager tugged at his girlfriend’s sleeve, and she cast him a sharp glance.  At her persistence, she merely sighed and turned her head toward me.

“It was great to meet you, my friend.  We’ve got more people to meet though; for now, sayonara!”  And with a wave, she let herself be dragged through the door I came through.  The room was silent and hollow once more.  A chill ran down my spine.

“You didn’t even ask for my name.”  Whatever.  There was nothing to do but keep on exploring, it seemed.  After what felt like forever (even though it could have only been minutes), I reached the top--or rather, the closest I could get to it.  The ceiling stopped abruptly, cutting off a step mid-way, and there seemed to be a seam along it; in fact, touching the ceiling, it felt like cold steel.  Whatever this was, it probably blocked off the rest of the building.  With nothing left to do, I descended the stairs again, and headed through the door adjacent to the one I came from.  Certainly, there’d be more people in there.

Seemed I was right; little did I know I’d be hitting the jackpot.  Two boys and two girls stood in the dimly lit room, broken off into pairs.  The walls were thick and plush, sinking a bit as a tanned boy in a tanktop leaned against it.  He spoke loudly--too loudly--and at an odd pace, like every few words were grouped together in succession.

“Why not, Luj’?  It’s not like we’re gonna get in trouble!”  He spoke passionately to a shorter boy, who tugged at his powder-blue ponytail nervously.  The other one was dressed much like his tanner friend; he wore a black tanktop, but with a jean jacket mostly buttoned over it, and black sweatpants.  His clothes were spattered in a rainbow of paint colors: blues, reds, greens, whites, and more.  However, unlike his muscled companion, “Luj” had an unusually thin frame.

“I-I don’t know...what if Peak is watching, huh?  Then what…?  Then we’d be stuck!  In trouble!  Alone!  ...Sorta!”  He scratched as his arm, and his gaze suddenly flitted over to me.  “U-Uh...see?”  They both turned around, and the bigger one’s face went pale.

“Woah, woah, woah!  We’re really sorry, uh...Professor!”  He almost flailed, flustered and afraid.  “Luj” was almost shrinking away, as if trying to vanish into the plush wall.  Well...this could be a bit fun.  So putting on my most authoritative voice, I kept the act going.

“I’m c-certain you are.  I’m certain of your guilt, too.”  Crossing my arms, I continued.  “N-Now, give me y-your names.”  Damn.  Despite the lousy performance, they both seemed to buy into it.

“Luji Berry!  The Ult-Ultimate Janitor!  Ready to clean up my act!  Y-Yeah, clean it!”  The smaller boy was stammering and stumbling over every other word, and finally, he straightened up and saluted me, his hand trembling.  His companion let out a sigh, shaking his head.

“Riley O’Brian, Ultimate Marksman.”  Huh.  The Ultimate...Marksman?  That was dangerous.  Almost too dangerous to be in the room with.  I let out a shaky breath, and suddenly, clapping resounded from the other side of the room.

“Brava, brava!  That almost sounded convincing...but not enough.”  One of the other girls crossed the room, peering down the bridge of her glasses at Riley.  “Try that again for the professor.  And don’t bullshit the human lie detector.  Don’t you know  _ who _ this is?  You’re trying to lie to Anzhelika Van Buskiirk, the Ultimate Detective.  The family’s a long lineage, so don’t mess with any of them.  Right, professor?”  She looked at me expectantly, a sly smile painted on her lips.

“R-Right!”  I yelled, suddenly invigorated.  “So l-l-let’s try that a-again!  Name!”  Through clenched teeth, he answered me once more.

“Andre Lafeyette, the Ultimate Rugby Player.”  This time, his tone was different.  Less...rigid, less monotone.  It was the truth, and that was evident.

“Better, Andre.  Oh--and that’s not really Anzhelika.  I totally made that name up.  They’re Paris Eins, an author; the Ultimate Author, I presume?”  Whoever she was, she was tough--but certainly no cookie.  I ignored Andre’s sputtering to answer her.

“Ultimate L-Librarian, actually.  It’s n-nice to meet you…?”  I held out my hand.  She took it graciously, her expression never changing as she spoke.

“Pleasure.  I’m Arella Cortes, the Ultimate Psychologist; they call me the Human Lie Detector.”  So that explained it.  If she was a psychologist...she’d probably read my book.  It’d only been out about a month or so, but maybe the diehard literary enthusiasts had leaped at the chance to learn all a book had to offer; cover to cover to author to history to criticism and literary lens.  But I was pretty sure she was the only one in the room.

“Paris, huh?  Cute name, dude.”  He offered me a small smile, his shoulders relaxing.  “Glad to know you aren’t some staff member.  Or maybe not.  We’ve been stuck here for a while!”

“Yeah,” Luji chimed in.  “We’ve been in here for some time!  Quite some time!  And, um, I’ve been...too afraid to leave the room.”  The boy looked dejected as he stared down at his dirty white sneakers, and I felt a pang of regret over scaring him.  The Janitor must’ve been scared witless already.  But...when I stopped and thought, the idea was getting scarier by the minute.  We were all unconscious; we all woke up together; we all went to explore; parts of the museum had been blocked off.  Nothing made sense, and that was when things started falling apart.  As if sensing my worries, the girl in the corner spoke up.

“Paris Eins...your chi isn’t flowing right, man.”  She suddenly looked up, pushing the sequinned scarf off her face to talk more clearly.  “What’s up?”  ...What?  How had she known how I was feeling?  More importantly, what was her talk about chi, and who was she?  The Ultimate Psychic?

“Don’t be afraid, dude.  I’m Zelda, the Ultimate Medium at large.”  She paused for a second, to silence.  “...Hehe.  I think that’s funny, man.”  She spoke a bit slowly, as if in a trance.  Or...maybe she was just stoned.  Zelda wore a tie-dye shirt with a plain jacket, and blue jeans that clashed with everything.  A peace sign hung from her neck, partially tangled in the strands of her midnight blue hair.  “So, since someone finally came in...who wants to watch a movie?”

“A movie?”  How did they plan on watching  _ anything _ in here?  The room was plain.  Just three plush black walls, and a white wall with two giant black speakers hung--ohhhhhhhhh.  There were velvet seats throughout the room, and above the door was a glass panel inset into the wall, with a projector behind it.  Wires hooked it up to a panel beside the door with a slot for CDs, and a control panel.  If only there was a remote!  Not that I ever planned to use this.  CDs, projectors,  _ pause buttons _ ...they were all propaganda.  You never knew with technology.  Who was watching?  What control did the government have over it?  I’d barely watched TV for the past ten or so years, and now would not be the time to start.

“S-Sorry, but I still have...more p-people to find.”  But it seemed none of them heard me, as Luji fumbled with the control panel and the rest settled into their seats.  Without another word, I slipped out of the theatre.  Now there was one door left in the stairwell; where it led, I had no idea.  But I could hear voices, and one of them was all-too-familiar.

“ _ Madre di merda _ ,  _ Carlito, bastanza! _ ”  Nicola’s words cut through the door with every syllable; she was exasperated, even with her brother.

“Nicolita, please...I just want to have a little fun.  This is the last time we’ll be together before Hope’s Peak!  They will put us in different classes; I know it.”  Carlos’ voice broke with the last few words.  He was...crying?  It seemed uncharacteristic of the theatrical boy; but then again, it seemed uncharacteristic of all of them so far.

“ _ Bastanza. _ ”  The tone became more gentle, more soothing.  Less violent.  “ _ Parla italiano. _ _ Non ti preoccupare, per favore.  La mia famiglia.  Il mio cuore.  La mia vita. _ ”  Was it...right to intrude on this moment?  Whatever they were saying, it sounded heartfelt.  But if there were more people than those two, I needed to know.  So I knocked.

“ _ Madre di merda! _ ”  This time, it was Carlos who yelled out.  His voice was hoarse, nervous, raw.  “C-Come in!”  I pushed on the door--it gave way easily.  The sight was...intense.  Nicola stood in front of Carlos, her arms gripping his shoulders tightly as she glared at him.  The red-hot gaze turned on me, and it almost seemed best to close the door and never bother her again.  But she and Carlos weren’t alone.  The room was a large cafe; it had small round tables, and a kitchen inset into the wall, hidden but accessible.  A girl with fiery red hair sat near the kitchen...talking to the wall animatedly.  Was I the only one who noticed that?  No, I couldn’t be--but the duo remained straight-faced.  Maybe that was Bonaventura, the third of the Capitanis, the one they had sent out of the room before the others woke up?  I had to act quick, before Nicola let go of her brother and decided to grab  _ me _ .  So, in the smoothest of motions, I ran to the table, hitting it by mistake and causing the redhead to jump a mile.

“Ah bloody blimmin’ blimey o’reilly--oh, jesus!  You got a scare outta me!”  Her eyes were wide with fear, but the hint of a smile played out on her lips.  At least she wasn’t talking to the wall anymore, but one thing was certain; she wasn’t Italian.

“Bonaventura?”  I had to ask.  ...Just in case.

“I  _ wish _ .  I’m Florence Ward, call me Flo.  They say I’m the Ultimate Cosplayer!”  She flashed the peace sign with her fingers, turning and knocking against the wall.  “Bona!  Someone’s looking for you--oi, bloody hell.  I didn’t ask your name!”

“Paris Eins, Ultimate Librarian.”  By now, it had become almost mechanical.  Name and talent, name and talent, name and talent.  Rinse and repeat.  But hopefully--no, definitely, introductions had to be nearing their end.

“Paris, eh, okay.  I’ll remember that...probably!”  She smiled briefly before looking over my shoulder and calling out once more.  “Bona Boy!”  I turned, and finally, the final Capitani stood before me.  It was…

Well, he was…

“Disappointed?” he asked quietly, looking away dejectedly.  Instantly, the Capitanis’ eyes shot toward me.  Oh no.

“O-Of course not!  You s-s-seem really n-nice, and a l-lot less...a-a-angry than your s-sister.”  Yeah, that was going to win points with Nicola.  But it seemed to make him smile, even if just a bit.

“Thank you, I--”  Before Bona could finish, the door slammed open.  The room fell silent.

 

I sighed in relief as Son and Mario entered, laughing quietly about some private joke between the two.  They bypassed the Capitanis without so much as a second glance, and striding up to me, Mario spoke up.

“Hi again, potential voter--”  Another elbow to the ribs.  “Er…”

“Paris.”

“Paris, right!  Paris France, the Ultimate Traveler.  Well, anyway France, I wanted to tell you to get ready--I called a meeting for everyone, and they’re coming here.  We have to discuss what’s next, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing onto Part 2! With every chapter, I slip into these characters a bit more--it's going to hurt when they have to die, huh? Anyway, I hope it's not too obvious who my favorites to write are...
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos and comments! <3 Thank you so much!
> 
> (Special thanks to M, Razz, MG2123 and more for their continued love and support)


	3. Prologue - Angelou's Lament - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting is held; panic sets in. Our Headmaster makes his appearance. Comfort in the face of danger. A status update.

The meeting begun after what felt like an eternity of waiting.  Luji and Libby arrived first, the former pulling a chair out for the Linguist to sit on.  When totally removed from context, it seemed even sweeter; they both looked like little kids.  The pair  _ were _ very interesting.  Luji radiated anxiety in waves stronger than my own, while Libby was just...carefree.  With those personalities, I couldn’t see the bond surviving.  Next came Misty, who looked visibly uncomfortable.  Sensing the lull in activity, I scurried over to the Drag Queen, tugging at her arm.

“Hey bub, l--Oh!  Uhhh...hi, Paris.  What’s up?”  Her grin was wide and unabashed.

“I-I, um...is e-everything okay?”  While it didn’t sound smooth in the slightest, it was good enough.  Good enough to elicit a reaction as her eye twitched.

“Yeah, of course.  It’s fine, baby.  Everything’s fine, it’s just...I went to ‘my’ room and there was makeup, which is weird, right?  Because it’s the makeup I use exactly, which was limited edition, and unless they like, broke into my house or something, that doesn’t make any sense, right?  Like my glittery sexbang palette was there, and it even has that little nick in the corner from when someone in the club tried to stab me, and I make custom eyeshadows and they were there too, and it’s all laid out on table in there, but there’s no bathroom so how do they expect me to beat my mug?  Why would I even need to beat my mug in blah blah blah blah blah?”  Huh, who else had come in?  I turned from the queen mid-speech, hearing another loud voice across the room.

“Took long enough to find y’guys!” Delta grumbled.  I looked her up and down--her face slightly tinted from running, her eyes tired yet aware, the rope tied around her wrist--the rope tied around her wrist?  Her eyes followed mine, and then she jumped up a bit.

“This!  I found some stragglers on the way, so they got tied along.  Y’know, like kids.  Or cattle.”  I couldn’t help myself; I giggled at the absurdity, earning a grin from the Liaison.  These weren’t just a few people.  Jonie, Andre, Mizuki, Arella, and Charlie on the opposite end, who had been waving as I peered down the line.  Cupping her hand to her mouth, she called out.

“It’s like a chain gang!”  Yeah, the four stragglers did have the faces of prisoners.  Andre was rolling his eyes and audibly huffing every few minutes, as if his next noise would be the one to convince them to untie him.  Jonie looked unphased--maybe “resigned” was a better descriptor, considering how long he’d been stuck with the Southern women.  Still, upon locking eyes with me, his lit up with a considerable warmth.  Ugh.  I quickly looked away, pushing the thought away.  Arella was...surprisingly peaceful.  She was conversing quietly with Mizuki, who had knelt to the floor suddenly and nearly sent Andre toppling over.  Before he could open his mouth to comment on her carelessness, the doors swung open to reveal the French duo, with Marco and Theo in tow.  The latter two were looking anywhere but the crowd; the Mathematician’s face was bright red, and Theo refused to take his hand off his face.  Aurelie had an uncharacteristically smug grin on her face.  In an act of what could only be goodwill, she had even allowed Pierre to link arms with her!  Of course, some looked confused.  It seemed Bonaventura and Florence had yet to meet anyone new, as they watched from the sidelines in awkward exclusion.  It was Carlos who looked confused for an entirely different reason, and as he nodded his head questioningly at Aurelie, she answered bluntly.

“I think we will need guards in the Theatre.  I found the boys in a  _ compromising _ position.  Nothing too lewd, may the Lord bless that, but…”  She let out a single quiet laugh, looking to the taller Referee.

“But Marco’s gonna need a scarf!”  The boy had dropped his slight, possibly fake French accent in his excitement.  Picking it back up awkwardly, he cleared his throat and continued.  “They, ah...yes.  Guards.  We will need them.”  The room fell silent as the surprise lovebirds slunk away to a corner to be alone.  Aurelie followed them step for step, wagging her finger all the while and tutting with every tap of her foot.  Somehow, it felt as though her repeated “mon dieu” was going to be said more than a “hello” between the twenty-one of them.  ...Wow, twenty-one.  ..Or rather, twenty.  Who was...missing?

The meeting began anyway, despite a very apparent absence that  _ no one was noticing _ .

“Voters!  Friends!  Romans!  The Italians!  Give it to the Italians, everyone, look at their pizzas--uh, their pizzazz!  Pizzazz!  They’re not a meatball short, I’ll tell you tha--now, ma’am, you don’t need to approach so aggressi--”  In a second, Mario was kicked forcefully backwards.  Son’s face twinged with fury for just a split second before catching the Campaign Manager and standing to let him in her seat.  He patted his lap.  She stood.

“ _ Voters _ .  Fucking voters.  Not friends, either, though.   _ Classmates. _ ”  Nicola’s tone was even worse than it had been in her introduction.  She seemed...well, further than pissed.  Outraged.  Disgusted.  “We have been here too long.  So, to the Hope’s Peak Academy staff--”  She twirled to a nearby camera--a camera?  When did a camera get there?--and threw her middle finger into the air.  “ _ Fuck-a you! _  This is not funny!”

“Mawma,” began Misty.  “What’s the big deeeal?  So we got a field trip, or something.  Beats school, doesn’t it?”  The Queen had plopped into a chair, one leg up on it; she was wearing a miniskirt.  Oh my God.  Libby, in perhaps what could only be childhood curiosity, leaned to her left to look up the skirt.  Judging by her face, I could only imagine just what was hidden in her Greek underworld.

“No, she’s right.”  The first words came out of Marco’s mouth since their dramatic entrance.  “By my calculations--”  That earned a giggle from Theo, whose arm wrapped around the smaller boy protectively.  “--there is something very wrong.  Tell me, guys...did you anything like an exit when you were exploring?”  The small bouts of chatter petered out almost instantly.  “I--I thought not.  Not in here, not in the--the Th-Theatre, uh, not...the weird skeleton room, the stairs, the bathrooms--nothing.  There isn’t an exit.  And--And look at--”  He was cut off by Charlie’s flat voice.

“Oh my gud, there’s no windows.  We’re such idiots.”  Her hands fell limp at her sides and I heard her groan brokenly.  “Idiots.”  As if she hadn’t heard a word of their conversation, Mizuki murmured the answer to my question.  In the dead silence, everyone was finally able to hear her.

“...Where’s Zelda…?”

 

As if on cue, the Medium burst into the room screeching and gibbering.

“ _ Numbered!  Numbered, our days are numbered--the bear--black, white, red, red all over, black, white, five, six, sudden, tragic, seduction into despair, betrayal, so much jealousy, oh, insanity, bleakness, pre-medita-- _ ”  And then her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and Zelda’s legs buckled beneath her.  She crumpled to the ground just as Luji darted over, lifting her head.

“Oh God, she’s trembling...Trembling!”  Maybe that was just him.  The boy was shaking so hard it seemed as though his strawlike hair was about to tumble out.

“What the heck was she  _ saying _ ?”

“No, no…”

“I was just talking to her, this is no accident…”

“She’s fuckin’  _ nutso _ !”

“Everybody give her some AIR!”

“Upupu...have we lost someone already?”

 

A voice unlike any other shattered the air.  One by one, our heads turned to the cameras.  Underneath each were loudspeakers, blaring out the earsplitting announcement.

 

“Just one moment, pleeeeease!  Gotta get the last curler out, aaand--”  The table next to Misty suddenly shot up into the air, sending her flying with a shocked scream.  It lifted higher and higher, until suddenly…

 

A black and white bear, split down the middle like an unholy creature, untouched by Zeus, leaped from the container underneath the table.  His laugh, the glowing eye, the gentle buzz every time he moved; I was right.   _ I was right _ .  Government conspiracies, the evil of technology all culminating in this...unholy thing.  Whatever it was.  Just looking at it brought bile to my throat, but surprisingly, the first one to break out of shock was Libby.

“Oh.”  Her eyes widened.

“My.”  Her arms lifted, almost defensively.

“Goooooooooooooooooood!”  And just like that, she was rushing forward to grab the bear.  I didn’t know what to do; the things had  _ claws _ , this little girl couldn’t play with--well, she wasn’t a little girl, was she?  Despite her youthful appearance, she--

She collided with me as we both fell backwards.  This time, it was Florence who had done the tossing.  Her chair clattered to the ground as she jumped to her feet, and glowered at the bear.

“The fuck is this, you bloody fuckin’ wanker?  You get yer rocks off tryin’ to scare teenagers?  You think yer something?  I’ll fuckin’ right yer wrongs, mate!”  And then she fumbled in her pocket, almost growling.  “Wh-What?  What the hell?  Where’s my pocketknife?”

“You brought a pocketknife?” scoffed Arella.  “What are you, a gangbanger?”

“You wanna get closer and find out?” Florence shot back.  “I keep it so shit like this doesn’t happen!  Bear attacks are  _ serious _ back in Ireland, and like Calculator said, are there any exits?”

“Calculator…?” Marco asked hesitantly.  But a second later, he shook his head and continued.  “Wh-What are you, bear?”

“ _ What _ am I?  Rather,  _ who _ am I!  Teenagers these days...they’re either moody, crazy, or rude.  Some of you are all three!  Well, maybe  _ this _ will teach you a lesson in humility…”

“What, listening to your speech?  Poo-poo!  I spit on your speech!”  Now Nicola had snapped from her daze, fired up and ready.  “I just want to leave and go to Hope’s Peak Academy!”  Was that a hint of desperation?  It sounded like one, but...from Nicola?

“You want to leave?  Yeah, sure, that’s easy enough.”  The bear stated it as a simple fact.  The malice in his tone was gone, it was just plain and simple.

“Thank GOD!” Theo boomed.  “How we gettin’ out?  Is this like, my test?  Do I blow up a WALL?!”

“No, no!  Please, don’t destroy the property, it’s a rental!  If you really want to leave the past behind...well, I’m willing to bend a little.  It’s what any good teacher will do for such  _ model _ students.  To leave this--oh, this  _ Gallery of Silent Poetry _ , let’s call it, this Museum Life of Mutual Killing--oops!  Spoiler alert!  If you want to leave, you’ll have to kill a fellow classmate and get away with it.”  The last sentence was said with such a haughtiness, a voice of moral superior--wait.

Had he just told us to kill one another?  In shock, I looked around.  Delta’s face was growing redder every second, as if she was about to burst.  Florence’s fury had ebbed away as she tried to fall backward into her seat--and instead hit the ground with a wince.  Libby just looked confused; as if he had just told us we were all magical giraffes.  Arella’s expression, typically so flat, had cracked just the tiniest bit.  Her eyes were twitching, as if they were trying to escape her body.  The Capitanis all had varying reactions; Bona, already crying; Nicola, her eyes wide with fear; Carlos, eyeing everyone around him with suspicion.  As his eyes fell on me, I shuddered and looked down at the tile.  ...Why was there water on the floor?  At my feet, there were several droplets.  Was there...oh.  I touched my face, and it dawned on me that I was crying.

Jonie was the first one to make a noise other than an unintelligible groan, scream, or sob.

“No.”  At this, the bear turned to him.  The only thing worse than his speech was...how eerily still he was when he was silent.  A striking reminder that he was a robot.  “No, we won’t kill each other.  We’re the Ultimates of Hope’s Peak.”

“Upupu…”  There it went again.  “Puhuhuhu...the Ultimates of Hope’s Peak.  I’m very sorry then, it appears I was mistaken.  I guess you won’t murder one another.  You’ll spend the rest of your lives wasting away in this building, sneaking into dark rooms to fornicate and inevitably continue on your sad existence...even with the knowledge that several of you are liars.”

“HUH?!”  Theo stomped forward, leaving Marco alone in the corner.  I looked to him; he was covering his mouth with pallid hands.  “None of us are LIARS!”

“Ohhhh, you’re so sure?  You only met these people an hour ago, Theodore Black.  You only met  _ all _ these people an hour ago.  Your trust will go a loooooooooong way!”  The robot struck a pose, and I dryheaved into the crook of my elbow.  “Besides, I can confirm a few things:  one, more than one of you is lying about their talent.”  At that, every eye turned to Jonie.  It was the obvious conclusion; what did he really know?  “Two: some of you are working under my paw.”  ...Couples, pairs, newfound friends looked at one another with newfound doubt.  I watched Delta shoot a quick glare at Charlie, who huffed in response.  Oh dear.  But none of this could be right.  Unless...no.  I wasn’t stupid.  It was perfectly logical to assume some of these strangers were the reason for our imprisonment.  But we couldn’t let that cloud our judgment.  ...But they were strangers.  No, it would actually be so easy to escape.  Slipping into the kitchen, slipping into a dark room and slipping a knife into the heart of a martyr, successfully ending their character arc…

No.  Oh, no no no.  No.   _ No. _  I’d done it again.  Fallen into that trap.  We weren’t characters, we weren’t martyrs, we didn’t have arcs or beginnings or conclusions that made any logical sense.  We were more than stories.  More than stories.  We had to be.

“What?  Did I say something wrong?  Did I hurt your feelings, kids?  Oh please, don’t be upset at me...I’m endangered, y’know…”

“You will be  _ in danger _ if you do not leave now.  Abscond or face the wrath of God.” Aurelie bristled, icicles falling from every word.  She had dove into cold fury, trapped beneath the surface by a thinning layer of ice.

“That’s not very Christian, Ms. Ebner!  Unless we’re going...Old Testament style...in which case, I’ll just smite you all.  How’s them vinegar-soaked sponges?”

“GET  **OUT!** ” she screeched, her eyes screwing shut in frustration.

“Oh-em-gee!  Double-yu-tee-eff!  Asterisk semicolon dollar sign at symbol!  Dee-tee-eff?  Oh, not that one--whatever!  I’ll take my leave for now...after all, it’s officially Night Time, so get to bed kiddies!  But, uh...I installed a mailbox system in the Awakening Room, so make sure you get your ElectroIDs before you sleep!  If someone got it for you...oh, how dreadful that would be for the lock mechanisms…”  With those cryptic words, he slid back into the capsule.  “Oh, and for you rude bastards, my name isn’t ‘bear’.  It’s Monokuma!”  As it slammed shut with a sickening  _ crack! _ , my eyes fluttered shut and I was helpless to a long, drawn out groan of pure...despair?  Maybe.  Now, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling; nor did I know what to feel.

 

When I opened my eyes again, the room was nearly empty.  As if time had cycled back, Jonie and Delta stood before me.  Both looked broken and tired, and Delta’s eyes were rimmed with a deep red that branched toward her pupil severely.  Jonie had etched scratches into his forehead out of some nervous tic; his fingernails were tinted red at their tips.  But still, they had waited for me--for God knows how long.

“Welcome home, peasnap.”  It was a broken welcome, but her hand was warm and I took it without a second thought.  It was pulling me deeper, deeper, until I was pressed against her chest, and Jonie wrapped an arm around me too.  Together, we rocked for a few seconds of pure mourning.  Then we disbanded, with Jonie slipping a thin tablet into my hand that unlocked as my index finger tapped it; I didn’t even have the energy to jump back.

As I slipped into the room Delta told me was mine, I thought about the events of the day.  I used to just be Paris Eins.  Now I was Paris Eins, Ultimate Librarian.  And...every second, a wave of regret washed over me.  I was trapped.  The caged bird couldn’t really give a shit if the cage was gold, silver, bronze, or rainbow--because it was still a cage.  The people who had been deemed my classmates were all interesting people; but were they good people?  In the real world, there were no antagonists or protagonists.  We were just people.

As I pulled the covers over my head, I couldn’t help but hope we were  _ good people. _

**_-End prologue.-_ **

 

\--------

W E L C O M E,  LACEY CAITO :

R U L E S

 

P R O F I L E S

 

E V I D E N C E

 

S T A T U S

 

//OPEN  R U L E S

**Rule 1:**  Your home until further notice is the  **Gallery of Silent Poetry.**

**Rule 2:**  If  **Rule 1** is not applicable to you, alert  **Monokuma** by murdering a fellow student and becoming  **the Blackened.**

**Rule 3:** **The Gallery** is free for you to explore--within the confines of the metal grates forbidding access to the upper floors.

**Rule 4:**  Violence or destruction of  **Monokuma** or  **property** will result in immediate expulsion from this plane of existence.

**Rule 5:  Day Time** is from 7 AM to 10 PM.

**Rule 6:  Night Time** is from 10 PM to 7 AM.  Some areas will be restricted during this period, and some features may not be available.

**Rule 7:**  Additional rules may be added at  **Monokuma’s** discretion.

 

//CLOSE  R U L E S

//OPEN  P R O F I L E S

  * ANDRE LAFEYETTE, ULTIMATE RUGBY PLAYER
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * ARELLA CORTES, ULTIMATE PSYCHOLOGIST
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * AURELIE EBNER, ULTIMATE WHITE WITCH
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * BONAVENTURA CAPITANI, ULTIMATE SAND SCULPTOR
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * CARLOS CAPITANI, ULTIMATE THESPIAN
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * CHARLOTTE ELLIS, ULTIMATE ENGINEER
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * DELTA DAVENPORT, ULTIMATE LIAISON
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * FLORENCE WARD, ULTIMATE COSPLAYER
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * JONIE JONES, ULTIMATE ? ? ?
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * LIBERTY QUIQUE SMITH, ULTIMATE LINGUIST
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * LUJI BERRY, ULTIMATE JANITOR
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * MARCUS FROST, ULTIMATE MATHEMATICIAN
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * MARIO MARTINEZ, ULTIMATE CAMPAIGN MANAGER
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * “MISTY FALLS”, ULTIMATE DRAG QUEEN
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * MIZUKI SUZUKI, ULTIMATE ASTRONOMER
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * NICOLA CAPITANI, ULTIMATE TARENTELLA DANCER
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * PARIS EINS, ULTIMATE LIBRARIAN
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * PIERRE CREVACOUR, ULTIMATE REFEREE
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * SON KI, ULTIMATE DEMOCRAT
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * THEODORE BLACK, ULTIMATE PROJECT MANAGER
    * STATUS: ALIVE
  * “ZELDA”, ULTIMATE MEDIUM
    * STATUS: ALIVE



 

//CLOSE  P R O F I L E S

//OPEN  E V I D E N C E

N O   E V I D E N C E

 

//CLOSE  E V I D E N C E

//OPEN  S T A T U S

Y o u   a r e   a l i v e   !   !   !   C o n g r a t u l a t i o n s : )

 

//CLOSE  S T A T U S

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, the Prologue's a wrap! Thank you for reading this for, it really, truly means the world. You're sitting through the ramblings of a frantic author trying to get the words out before they drive him crazy. Now Chapter 1 begins, and the real fun starts! Here, a poll to vote on FTEs:  
> https://goo.gl/ogb4mC  
> Again, thanks so much! Please leave kudos, comments, suggestions, anything!
> 
> (Special thanks to M, Razz, MG2123, and more, y'all know why)


	4. CH1 - Write Me Down In History - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar figure appears. Plans are made. Paris makes a friend?  
> [FTE 1/4: Nicola Capitani]

The first morning had, so far, been the toughest.  Our captor had stocked our needs, to an extent: fresh clothes, water, and a bed to lay our head on.  Bathrooms lay at each end of the hall, gender-specific, each with disposable toothbrushes and toothpaste.  Oddly, the wings themselves weren’t.  We’d been lumped together alphabetically.  Nicola was to my left--she was the reason I knew each room had been soundproofed.   _ Thud.  ...Thud.  ...Thud. _  The vibrations made the wall tremble just the faintest bit, and they pulsed against my back while I was slumped against the wall last night.  It felt...personal.  As if with every slamming kick, she was driving her foot into me.  With anger.  With resentment.  Maybe not for me specifically, but for everyone else.  ... _ Almost _ everyone.

Despite all this, I had a plan.  It had dawned on me as I donned another maroon hoodie to check the dirty hoodie’s pocket, and as I did, I found something most peculiar.  A small scrap of paper.  As I unfurled it, my father’s handwriting had rolled down the crumpled white scroll, the ink smudged here and there.  He had always written sloppily; he was left-handed.  

 

_ Be good, make friends! :) _

 

Before I could help it, the words trickled out--

“Daddy…?”  The ink grew and blurred in one or two spots, and I wiped my eyes.  I gritted my teeth like he would want; he wanted me to be strong.  It was time to keep moving--Still, I slipped the paper into my pocket once more, running my fingers along its edges.  My hand found its way around the door handle as I treaded along the floor, and finally, I ripped the door open and threw myself out, closing it behind me with a slam.  Good.   _ Good. _  The urge to just hide behind the thick metal door and never see anyone again was overwhelming.  I didn’t want to die.  While I didn’t want to think anyone--not Jonie, not Delta, nor Mizuki, Nicola, nor even Luji--could be a killer, I knew the unpredictability of human nature.  I knew suffering and evil firsthand.  But for now, I had to listen to my father; I had to be good.  I had to make friends.  Maybe...friends would be what kept the group alive.

Now--the plan.  Out of everyone, there was one person I thought might just be a ticking time bomb.  Her arc was rapidly coming to a close.  From her overwhelming pride, to her blind fury, to her eventual breakdown--she could be our Achilles’ Heel.  So I set out on my quest.

Reaching the Stairwell, I paused for a minute.  If I swung that door open, I was in danger immediately.  It was a common area.  What if there was only one person in there and they decided to take my life?  What if I stayed here and someone stabbed me from behind?  What if  _ I _ died of some mysterious, random affliction and everyone had to figure it out?  What if--

“A-Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” I screeched.  The door  _ had _ swung open.  It also  _ had _ slammed into me, leaving me shell-shocked on the floor.  The Tarantella Dancer tapped her foot, arms crossed as she glared me down.

“You are sneaking around, yes?” she asked icily.  “Planning something?”  I couldn’t speak--I was paralyzed.  Afraid.  She--she had a knife taped to her thigh.  A kitchen knife, wrapped around and around with thick, asphalt-gray duct tape.  She sighed at my silence.  “It is... _ whatever _ , as you say.  But do not forget: I will not be hurt.”  And then she threw out her hand impatiently, her foot gaining tempo and a newfound, more aggressive rhythm.  “Will you waste time even more?  You are the last one awake.  ...Again.”  She added the last bit with a definitive huff of air as if she was exasperated by my very existence.  “Well?  Are you coming?”  Right.  ...Right.  I needed to grab her hand.  I needed to grab the knife-wielding, angry girl’s hand, and hope she didn’t stab me to death.  Easy.  My hand moved with a notable tremble until it connected with hers, which was burning hot.  Before I could stop myself, a remark fell out.

“D-Do you...have a fever?”  Nicola raised an eyebrow, but did not speak.  “I-I mean...your hand is--is s-so warm.”  She paused for a moment, blinking.  Expressionless.  I hoisted myself to my feet with her help, but her silence was unnerving.

“We are Italians.  Hot-blooded.”  The corners of her mouth turned into the tiniest of smiles as she looked back towards the door and spoke.  “Let us get the road onto the show, yeah?”

“R-Right…”  And then she opened the door, barely waiting for me as I scrambled into the room.  The dining hall looked...different.  On the first day...er, the Day of Awakening, the room had been overwhelmingly beige.  The floor had been tiled in creams, but now it was plasticine planks of dark oak.  They were just a tiny bit shiny, reflecting the dull yellow of the chandeliers that filled the ceiling, each one overlapping with the next to form some intricate, but indecipherable pattern.  The plain walls had been painted maroon--the exact shade of my hoodie.  I shuddered at that realization, pulling the drawstrings of my hood tighter.  It seemed trim matching the floor lined the walls, too.  It was cohesive.  I always  _ did _ like cohesion.  Everything in literature had a purpose and a reason, and it had always bothered me that the same couldn’t be said for reality.  The kitchen was still there; however, a large rectangle had been cut into the wall there.  It provided a window into the kitchen, complete with half-black, half-white curtains.  It seemed Nicola caught me eyeing them, probably with apprehension.

“Awful, are they not?” she asked plainly, and I nodded.  “The other rooms have changed too.”  The tables had stayed the same.  The chairs, too.  It felt...reassuring, to see that  _ something _ hadn’t changed.  Even if it was only a day’s difference, yesterday had begun with the best intentions.  Another thing that hadn’t changed: everyone from yesterday’s meeting was there once more.  A thought was bubbling in the recesses of my mind: amongst all these people, who was I to them?

“Oi, Paris!”  A loud voice shook me from my fugue state.  Another aggressive girl, the fiery redhead Florence, was stomping towards me with gusto.  “Thank God!  We thought...well, we didn’t know what to think.  You’re a bloody enigma--but a popular one!”  She laughed raucously, whacking me on the back.  “It’s alive, boys n’ girls!”

“Well, we’re super glad.”  Marco offered me what some would call a heart-melting smile.  But what  _ really _ caught my attention was the pile in his arms.

“Someone’s got a one-track mind, hm?”  My eyes darted back up, because this time, the voice belonged to the Psychologist.  “Not that I blame you.  Seems the bear gave us some kind of Yankee Swap while we’re stuck here,” she scoffed.  “But maybe tomorrow, we’ll just get tiddlywinks.”  The sarcasm dripping from her monologue had a subdued undertone of aggression.  She was  _ pissed _ , but did Arella like showing any sort of negative emotion?

“All of us brought some stuff that Monokuma left in our rooms.  Better get it all where it belongs, right?”  Marco laughed awkwardly, looking down at the stack of books in his arms.  “I’ll make you a deal--You go back and get your swap item, and I’ll give you these books!”

“A d-deal?”  I looked from him, to the books, back to him, and then back to the books.  I didn’t like the feeling of every eye being on me.  “Y-Yeah!  Works for...works for me.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Nicola stepped forward.  “I will go with Paris!  A leader needs to protect the followers, yes?”  Again, she continued before anyone could answer.  “Goodbye!”  She was basically shoving me out of the room, her footsteps light but persistent behind me.

As we left the stairwell and entered the Exhibition Room with the elephant skeleton, I grimaced at the changes that had gone unnoticed in my morning crawl.  The walls had stayed the same.  The ceiling, too.  But the various glass cases had been taken away, replaced with a single dial against the wall.  I was unable to read it before the Dancer rushed me into the hallway, but it wasn’t my main concern regardless; rather, my main concern was the elephant skeleton.  It had been painted down the middle.  Instead of a natural bleached-bone color, black coated one side, and white coated the other.  A giant sharp red eye like the bear’s own was placed over one of its hollow eyesockets.  Ugh.  I shuddered, but the room was out of sight soon enough.  Now, for the task at hand.

“Um...Nicola?” I asked, trying to get her attention.

“Yes?”

“Why are you coming w-with me?  Not like I mi--”  Cutting me off, the Dancer gave a short answer.

“To know you do not have anything dangerous.”  Her excited voice had faded out as she walked ahead of me.  “Do not take it to heart; I do not want to take risks.”

“R-Right…” I muttered.  Well, this had gotten a little awkward.  “B-But, um…”  How did I put this?  “Do you think we could...s-spend some time together?  Before we go b-back?”  She stopped suddenly.  Unmoving.  “N--...Nico--?”

“Okay.”  Again, it was an emotionless response as she cut me off.  “It has been some time since I was allowed to relax…”  And then she sighed, laughing a bit under her breath.  “Look at me.  Thinking a library worker could be dangerous.”  Well--couldn’t I be?  I actually felt offended at that, before a cold wave washed over me.  Why was I disappointed about not seeming dangerous?  Nicola had a way of even cutting off my thoughts; she crouched down in the hallway, pointing at the ground next to her.  Even her normal movements had a supernatural grace to them.  I plopped down by her side, notably less elegant.

“What do you want to speak of?” she asked, tilting her head and locking eyes with me.  Her eyes were a dark brown, like she had two very large, intimidating black holes in her head.  I struggled to find the words to start my first mission; how lucky was I to have this opportunity?

“S-So...can you tell me what, uh...tarantu--tarantella is?”

She paused for a minute, rubbing her chin.  “Hm.  Let me think--tarantella is a form of dance that we do in Italy.  When people were bit by the spider, the tarantula, they would dance.  A crazy dance!  It was--it is a crazy dance.  I think in English, it is called...um…

\---

  1. Tarantism <\--
  2. Dance Dance Revolution
  3. Disco Fever



\---

“U-Um...was it tarantism?” I asked hesitantly, waiting for some kind of explosive reaction.

“Yes!”  Nicola bounced up a bit.  “Taran...tism.  It sounds better in Italian.   _ Tarantismo. _  We would dance until we fell down.  People--people called it a fever, a sickness--they forced us into hiding--but how can a sickness make a person feel so  _ alive _ ?”  She gesticulated wildly, her arms making wide arcs, as she looked far away into a time and place that was most definitely not  _ here _ .  Finally, I could see: someone else had as much passion as me.

“Th-That...it’s how I feel when I read.  I feel a-alive.”  I spoke quietly, afraid she would ridicule me.  But Nicola picked up on it, and nodded blankly.

“Yes.  Yes, you get it.  It is my life.  Your books are your life.  I am the best dancer in the world!  The world!  And you--you are good at reading books.  We are on different...levels, you would say?  But we are happy.  Yes?”

“D-Different levels?”  What?!  She had just gone from somewhat friendly to...well, normal Nicola.  But she repeated herself, as if expecting me to agree.

“Yes?”  She leaned just a fraction of an inch closer.

“N--um...yes.”  I shrugged.  Suddenly, I didn’t want this anymore.  This conversation, this heart-to-heart felt astonishingly thin.  Paper-thin.  Nicola had opened herself up to make  _ me _ open up, just so she could build herself up higher than me.  She seemed pleased, offering me another tiny smile.  When I didn’t speak, she continued about herself.

“I like the competition, yes?   _ Il fuoco. _  The music gets faster--bum-da-da, bum-da-da--”  She instinctively began to tap out the rhythm of the song.  “Bum-da-da.  And then faster, and faster, they play their guitars, their  _ tammurriatas _ , and we dance.  Faster and faster.  It is like a fight.  My feet--they go faster.  The music gets faster.  I go even faster…”  Suddenly, she stopped tapping.  “Sometimes we go too fast,”  And she took a breath as if she was going to continue that statement.  Instead, she got up.  “But that is why I am the best.”  And with that, she began to walk away.

“A-Ah!  Wait!” I yelled, scrambling to my feet.  She never stopped.  Catching up to her required some extreme huffing and puffing, but I finally had enough air to ask one more question.  “Nicola,”  She slowed, but did not stop again.  “Where are you from?”  There was a moment of silence.

“Naples.  It is my home.”  And she left it at that.

“O-Oh, well I’m...I-I’m from Portland.  Maine.”

“Oh,” was all she said.  It dawned on me; she probably had no idea where Portland, or even Maine, was.  Even worse, she probably didn’t care.  But it was only a couple of agonizingly long moments before we reached my room.  “Use your machine.”

“R-Right.”  I pulled the sickening device from my pocket.  The ElectroID.  Whoever was behind all this, they were probably watching us all through these...but I had so far resisted the urge to smash it.  Instead, I held it up to the lock.  The satisfying  _ click! _ did little to assuage me, but Nicola pushed in anyway.

“You have--”  She paused.  “Nothing?”

“What do you m-mean?” I asked, following her and glancing over the room.  Indeed, it was how I had left it in the morning--empty.  I had been wondering if the bear would place gifts in my room, but alas; no good.  When I repeated that fact to Nicola, she narrowed her eyes at me and crossed her arms.

“No gift?  Mm.  I do not believe you.”  Her icy tone was back.  What did she think I was hiding?  I wasn’t sure; but I had to figure something out to calm her down.

“What if--w-what if the gifts work like this?  You get Theo’s stuff, and he gets yours.  T-There are twenty-o-one of us.  That leaves one p-person out…”  The Dancer didn’t move.  Her face didn’t break.  We stood in that terrifying face-off for what felt like an eternity, until she finally strode out of the room.

“Fucking bear.  He did this to make us distrust each other…” she grumbled quietly.  I just stood there.  Silent.  Afraid.  If I was wrong, and she figured that out...I would be the black sheep of the group.  It would feel natural--it would feel correct to kill me.  I didn’t--I didn’t want to die.  That thought repeated in my head over, and over...until I snapped out of it.  My door was shut.  Checking my wretched ID, the time was...7 PM?  How long had I been standing here?  My legs hurt--very badly.  But it wasn’t Night Time yet.  I had another mission.  I forced my feet to move, but when I opened my door there was a small parcel sitting outside as if delivered in the mail.

"Hm...?"  Bending down, it became apparent what it was.  Marco had left the pile of books, along with a small note.

"Paris,

I'm so sorry!  To write this note I took a blank page from the back of one of these.  The swap is over--everyone got something they liked!  Except Jonie...but let's talk about that later.  Anyway, have a good night.  Hope everything's okay, you didn't answer when I knocked and Nicola wouldn't say anything...

Love,  
Marco"

I couldn't help but let out a deep sigh.  I'd probably worried everyone...again.  For the third time.  Sweeping the books into my room with one foot, I closed the door and retreated back to the bed.  The day was as good as over.  Now, all I could do...was sleep.  (And hope the rooms stayed the same.)

 

[END OF DAY 2 OF THE MUSEUM LIFE OF MUTUAL KILLING]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first FTE is done! I hope you enjoyed a taste of the slightly sour Tarantella Dancer. A big thank you for waiting for this chapter to everyone! I really appreciate any views, especially after such a long break. End of semester will kick your butt from Monday to Sunday, but the break is here; we are free! Chapters will be coming out a lot faster now, so expect one...well, soon! At most, expect Part 2 in a week.
> 
> ((Special thanks to M, Razz, MG2123, OldSleepy, and others for their continued support and love)


	5. CH1 - Write Me Down In History - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A knock at the door. The students are settling in. Paris and Delta make a startling--and possibly informative--discovery.  
> [FTE 2/4: Delta Davenport]

The next day, I was awoken by a knock at my door; it was a chaotic knock; different rhythms, different pauses between taps, erratic and bold.

“W-Who’s there?” I yelled in response, but there was no answer besides the unceasing taps.   _ Right, _ I recalled.   _ The rooms are all soundproofed. _  Did that mean I had to climb out of bed?  As I yawned and stretched out, I contemplated my own laziness.  The mission to placate my peers was already losing steam as we all settled into our new lives.  This couldn’t be forever.  Obviously, twenty-one students going missing all at once had to be major, world-wide news.  Even  _ one _ Ultimate student vanishing was cause for concern.  There had been a scandal in the Yorkshire news a year or two back, a snippet I’d caught in our hotel; they had sent a local teenager to a new overseas branch in the heart of London--the All-Star Academy--and she was unaccounted for mid-way through her fourth semester.  Her name still stuck out in my mind.  Ellie Attaway, the “All-Star Hacktivist”.  It seems she was a fighter of the government--the girl used her personal computer to break into government files and blow the metaphorical whistle on nefarious activity, effectively turning their demons against them.  While I had no interest or affection for any internet-enabled devil device, it  _ was _ pretty impressive.  A multi-nation-wide search ensued.  When a year went by without any results, funding was cut, and the All-Star Academy folded, displacing dozens of “All-Star” students.  The people of York still had hope, or so I’d heard.  But a Hacktivist had to have made many enemies.  Therefore, wherever Ellie had gone, she would probably not be coming back.

A slam against the door interrupted the knocking, and I was jolted from my thoughts.  Oh no.  Nonononono, what had just happened?  The rhythm resumed as I slipped from the hard bed, feeling my spine shift and crack as gravity took over.  I was half-dressed, only in a hoodie and jeans without socks, but that would have to do for now.  If I waited any longer, the other person would probably knock my door off the hinges.  The wooden floor was freezing.  Without waiting any longer, I skipped along to the door on one foot and swung it open, my mystery caller raising an eyebrow.

[ [~FTE Start] ♫---♫ [FTE Start~] ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7eWaxTNbPJk)

“Y’okay, peasnap?”  Delta’s voice was laden with concern, her eyes darting from my face to my foot and back.  “Did y’get hurt?”

“Oh, n-n-no!  It’s just r-really cold, so I-I--”  I fumbled to find an explanation.  “Can I-I get a minute to put some shoes on?”  I was still balancing on one foot.  Finally, her shoulders relaxed and a dumb grin grew on her face.

“Go for it,”  And then her smile faltered a bit.  “We got all the time in the world.”  Yes, we certainly did.  I hopped and tugged on white socks while she continued to make small-talk, now swaying in the doorway lightly.  “Y’know, we were all kinda nervous when y’didn’t come back for the swap, and that Italian girl doesn’t say a word--that Marco, he was real crestfallen; I think he fancies a bookworm--I can call you a bookworm, can’t I?  We ain’t strangers anymore.”  I was half-following what she said.  Why was it so hard to put on socks all of a sudden?  I nodded as she kept talking about this and that, but perhaps that was a mistake, because as soon as I finally dressed myself, the Liaison was turned around and heading into the hallway once more.  I blushed a bit; it had been rude not to invite her in.  But her voice assuaged my doubt as it echoed in the hall.

“Y’coming, peanap?”  Was I supposed to?

“Y-...Yeah!  One sec!”  Or less than that, as I ran out to follow her.  Delta moved at a fast clip, not quite rushing, but getting to the destination efficiently; wherever the destination was.  It turned out not to be far, as we entered the elephant skeleton-adorned room.

“Welcome to the new Simulation Room.” she said, looking at the dial I had seen yesterday.  The Simulation Room?  She continued, as if reading my mind.  “The Simulation Room, well...I don’t get it either.  But if you,”  Delta strode over to the knob and spinning it.  “Turn the knob,”  Finally, she clicked it onto someone’s name: mine.  “You’ll get something, that’s for sure.”  It was true.  Within seconds, the sound of fluttering pages filled the air like a mad cacophony, but to me it felt like home.  I couldn’t help it--within seconds I was laughing, dancing through the room.  Dancing!  This was home.  Shelves had materialized along the wall, each one filled to the brim with books until the wood stretched just the tiniest bit.  A dozen or so books that hadn’t fit within the confines of the cases were tumbling to the floor, and Delta grunted as she smacked one away from her head, sending it down with a clatter.  My eyes fell to it immediately.   _ The Tales of a Brother Long Lost _ .

“Oh my god,” I whispered.  “It’s perfect.”  This book was the beginning of my life.  Memories were already flooding back; my neighbor Valerie bringing me the book before we left the apartment for Dubai, reading it carefully under the covers with a lit wax candle, losing my family in the crowd as unfamiliar hands pulled me upward, the comfort and strength Mother Goose brought to me in the back of the darkened van.  My shoulders shook as I grabbed the paperback, flipping through it.  Each illustration was just like it had been all those years ago.  The pages were yellowed by the sands of time.  In the very front cover, the handwriting was Valerie’s slanted, vivid handwriting, and it read: “To Paris:  You will never be long lost as long as this is with you.”  Wait.  What?

“P-Paris?”  I shot up at the sound of my name.  Valerie?  No--it was Delta.  She was holding a book of her own in her hands:  _ The Butler Did It. _  “These books...they have your name in them, peasnap.”  She said it slowly, moreso than usual, like she was trying to make it stick in my head.  “Your name.”

“I-I don’t know--I--” I sputtered, unable to form a thought or a sentence.  Something was wrong.  Something was wrong, and bad, and soon everything would fall apart.  If Valerie was--was trapped within these walls--

I was snapped out of my thoughts by two firm hands pressing me against the wall.  Delta loomed close to me, her eyes cold and hard.

“This?  This looks bad, pea--Paris.  It looks bad.”  Her eyes darted to the side.  “I don’t know  _ what _ this is, but how about we check out my setting next?”  What could I do besides nod dumbly?  My arms pulsed as blood returned to them, the taller woman releasing me to move to the dial.  Within seconds the room was warped and changing as furniture vanished and reappeared, books seemingly burning up into nothing.  I stared, dumbfounded, barely even noticing the book in my hands get lighter and lighter, and eventually disappear.  The room was similar to my library, but no dice.  The walls were a dark oak, polished and shiny on every beveled edge.  Goldleaf-framed portraits of famous and infamous presidents lined the walls, with a huge image of George Washington imposed on the furthest wall, behind a large, sturdy, and most of all  _ foreboding _ oak desk.  The desk had a large bronze lamp on either end, beaded pull-cords hanging from each one.  Various papers, folders, and manila files cluttered the rest of it, and Delta practically flew to them as she jumped into the shiny red leather chair tucked under it.

“Woo-hoo, peasnap!  This is just like my--”  Her exuberant grin faded rapidly as she quietly finished her sentence, the last word lilting as if asking a question I couldn’t answer.  “...my office?”  Then the red of her cheeks drained as she turned to the files, flipping them open.  “What?”  She looked up at me.  “Peasnap, these are government files.   _ Real _ government files.  And they’re dated recently, too.”  She stood up suddenly.  “They--how do they have--why would--ohhhhhhhh--”  And then the Liaison fell back into her chair, sighing shakily.  “This is baaaad.  Bad.  But...there’s one way to check if this really is my room.”  Without a beat of hesitation, she ripped open the lower-left drawer.  “...Good.”  And out came a glass chessboard, checkered in frosted glass and mirror glass.  “My board is wooden, and it always will be.  This ain’t nothin’ more than smoke--”  She flicked one of the mirror pawns, sending it to the floor with a cracking thud.  It had landed in two pieces, the top rolling under the desk and crunching under her boot.  “And mirrors.”  I couldn’t help but shudder at its shatter.  “Hey.”  I raised my head again, looking back into her eyes.  They looked sorry, almost, but the fire in them hadn’t died.  “Do y’wanna play?”

“Can we even play w-with a pawn missing?”  The words came out sharp, for some reason.  I had no reason to be defensive, but… “Y-You have the home field a-a-advantage.”  Thankfully, the Liaison didn’t even flinch or hesitate before she replied.

“Glad y’picked up on that one.  In this situation--well--let’s both sit and talk.”

After some rearranging, we were both on the floor.  The board sat in between us, like an unwelcome divider.  After a second of lip-bitten silence, Delta grabbed one of her frosted pieces and tossed it out the doorway.  We exchanged a smile, and the battle began.

“In this situation--hold on, you go first.”  Well, alright.  I moved my pawn to E4 without a word.   “In this situation,” her pawn repeated for the third time as it moved to E5.  “You need every advantage y’can possibly get.”  It was childish to imagine her speaking through her pieces--but it felt a little less degrading than getting lectured by the bigger woman.

“A-Advantage…?  Delta, we...um, w-we don’t need an advantage.  Nobody’s gonna do a-anything.” said my knight, galloping to F3.

“That’s a nice thought,” said  _ her _ knight, as it reversed my move and trotted to C6.  “Ain’t it?”

“It’s the truth.”  My bishop made the sign of the cross and guided itself to B5.

“Let’s face it,” her second knight whispered as it landed on F6.  “We’re in a no-win scenario.  21 people, peasnap...one of them will break.  We wanna see what’s happening out there.  Why no one’s gotten us yet.”  Oh dear.  I almost tuned out her words as the scenario became apparent.  I wasn’t sure how to escape this trap without ending things even faster.

“T-They’ll come.”  G1 was claimed by my king, as my rook guarded him at F1.  “My dad will come, D-Delta.  He’s gotta find me again.”  She only raised an eyebrow at that remark, moving her bishop to C5.  I swiftly moved to block with my rook--but her hand wrapped around my wrist firmly.

“Sorry, hon.  You’re in checkmate.  Should’ve given y’ a little warning, huh?”  She chuckled under her breath, letting go and resetting our pieces.  “But what I did admire was the technique.  Was that just blind luck?  What was that thing y’did with the king?”

“Oh, that…? It was…”

 

\---

  1. Hail Mary
  2. Long Live The King
  3. Castling <\--



\---

“Castling.”  I threw the word out with some bravado.  That had to be it.  After a moment, Delta closed her eyes and grinned wide, shaking her head.

“I’ll be darned, peasnap.  You know some moves after all.  But, ah...I was the Chessmaster back at my old school.  We played for knuckles--you, er, don’t wanna know what that is.”  No.  No, I probably didn’t.  At my silence, she continued.  “Yeah, knew it.  Hey, pea; it’s been nice of y’to hang with me.  Er...bad choice of words.”  I laughed--it felt wrong to laugh, but I did.  It was so just so  _ absurd _ that we were joking about an incredibly lethal situation.  Probability, like chess against a former Chessmaster, was not on my side.

“S-So...you never told me.  What d-do yo-you do, exactly?”  Those files looked enticing, to say the least.  There was something about manila that just whispered  _ open me, open me, see all my secrets _ .  I had to fight back the urge to open one; I didn’t have a deathwish, especially by Delta’s hand.

“Me?  I work with the military branches a lot.  And individual units.  I’m like a go-between!  We...we minimize the risk.  I do a lot of jobs ever since I showed our Commander in Chief my skills.  I intercept messages, decode them, share the info I get...lots of secrets get passed between here,”  She gestured from one ear to the other.  “And here.  I get those units organized, and in contact with each other.  We move like the biggest, well-oiled machine you’ve ever seen.”  ... _ Woah. _  I felt like her job just kept revealing layer after layer.

“So why didn’t y-you step up to...w-well, lead us?”  Oh God, did that sound desperate?  It wasn’t supposed to.  “N-Not like...we need babys--babysitting!  It’s just...you’re so good at it.”  At that, Delta grimaced a bit.

“I haven’t lost in a long time, honey.  I think...it would just hurt when I failed as your leader.”  She looked away, her eyes gazing absentmindedly at one of the many portraits.  “We’re fighting the biggest losing war, and it’s against a goddamn  _ bear _ .  Ain’t that some shit?”  She huffed out a choked laugh.  “President Roosevelt...he would’ve been much better than me for this one.”

“I, uh...I-I don’t think he even shot that b-bear.  Right?”

“...Oh, yeah.  Right.  Heh...ain’t it bad of me to forget something like that?  I guess that’s where I’d fault him.  He took that bear and he made it someone else’s problem to kill.”  She paused, allowing my somewhat stunned silence to set it before continuing.  “But yeah, I need to go through those files.  So...I’ll see y’around, okay?”  The Liaison rose to her feet, offering a hand.  I took it.  With a light kiss to my hand, she turned heel and strode back to the desk.  ...What a weirdly formal gesture after all we’d gone through already.  Oh well...I did feel a little closer to Delta, but her words were ringing in my head at a deafening volume.  We didn’t have any idea what was really happening, did we?  We were just...pawns.  And sooner or later, we’d be in checkmate; one way or another.

When I left her to her piles of files, I didn’t feel quite at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it hasn't just been a week. (Don't listen to my deadlines ;o; ) Nevertheless, please enjoy a glipse into Delta! She's a lot of fun to write, and I had to literally learn chess to write this. Thank you for your continued readership and support, from the bottom of my heart. <3

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a project of love, one that's been in the works for a loooooong time. After so long, I'm finally ready to start sharing it. Thanks again!
> 
> Don't forget to tell me who your favorites are! Who you love, who you hate, who you love to hate, etc.
> 
> (Special thanks to M, Razz, MG2123, OldSleepy, and others for their continued support and love)


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